Look Me in the Eyes
by Kushelkitten
Summary: He is a killer who feeds on wants and desires. Can the angels stop him and does Dylan want to? (eventually Dylan ThinMan)
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Hi everyone. A new year and a new story to go with it. I own none of the angels, Charlie, Bosley, or the Thin Man aka Anthony. Please read and review. That will determine if I write more or not. Thanks!  
  
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The perpetrator was on the ground his hands on his head just as Natalie had commanded. "Are you okay, Dylan?" she asked her friend who was gently rubbing the purple bruises the man's thumbs left on her throat. She nodded in affirmative to the question. He turned his head and looked up at Dylan and gave her a knowing smile. He had seen her dreams as he stared into her eyes hypnotizing her. "Face the pavement," commanded Alex. When he didn't respond quick enough to her command she placed her foot on the back of his head and nudge it towards the ground.  
  
"Police brutality," he cried.  
  
"Prove it." said Dylan. "Plus we aren't police."  
  
The moments before Natalie and Alex arrived on the scene would be burnt into her minds eye forever. They had all dressed as decoys in hopes of luring the killer, a wannabe Jack the Ripper out into the open and Dylan was the one who succeeded. She wasn't sure how he got the jump on her. She stood on the bridge near the Victoria Tower Gardens watching the water of the Thames flow silver and silent in the winter grayness of dusk. For once her mind hadn't been on the rooftop of the theater but on the case as it should have been. After seeing the limp, lifeless bodies of his previous victims she was determined that no other woman would end up like they did.  
  
She felt the breeze blow past her whipping her fiery hair around her face. At first she thought that the wind had caught her scarf as well but when she put her hands up to pull it away from her throat she felt the hands, thick and strong close around her neck. She broke free from his hold just as they had practiced thousands of times in the office gym and attacked him back but he was an excellent fighter. She managed to call for Natalie before she heard the molar mike give out in a sizzle of static.  
  
Crouched on the ground he swung his leg out hitting the backs of her knees and causing her to fall. He was on her like a tiger pinning her to the ground. At six foot six and over two hundred pounds he was much bigger than she was. She shoved and struggled to sit up but when she tried he slammed her down on the ground causing her to hit her head. It was then that she decided to be passive and hope that he relaxed enough that she could catch him off guard. He looked intently into her eyes. There had been something about his eyes that she couldn't look away from. He had caused her to forget for a moment what she was fighting for. "Its good isn't it?" he asked her his voice pleasant and lilting. She nodded meekly as she watched the scene in his black dilated pupils unfold before her. "Your unfulfilled fantasies. Your hopes. Your desires. What do you see Dylan?"  
  
She wanted to ask him how he knew her name but she couldn't. His hands were pressing so intently on her windpipe but she couldn't struggle, she could only watch what was in his eyes. It was her dream. The same dream she had almost every night for the past year and a half. She stood on the rooftop with Seamus holding her over the ledge, choking her the way the man sitting on her, pinning her to the icy pavement was now doing. She watched as the Thin Man pulled her away from the edge his eyes blazing with adrenalized anger then an expression that softened as he pulled her to him and kissed her. The man was amazed. He knew he had picked the right one of the three. He knew that the redhead would be the one to fill him up. The others didn't have the same spark that he had seen in her and now this. He wondered who the man was as he watched the same scene being played out in Dylan's own slowly dying eyes. He released the pressure, not yet; it was too soon for her light to go out plus this was just too good .The other had all had bland hopes and dreams, a new car, a house in the suburbs, a nice husband, two point three kids and a dog. Not this one she wanted.no name only "Creepy Thin Man" was coming to him. There had to be a name, she was just blocking it but she couldn't block him for long.  
  
Dylan gasped as he released a bit of the pressure on her throat as air she didn't even realize she was lacking rushed in to her lungs filling the alveoli and the simultaneous vision of Seamus running the silent assassin through with his own sword. The man gasped as well, it was incredible what the young women felt for this man. The intensity of this one kill would be enough to keep him satisfied for months if not another year. It would give him enough time to cover his tracks and move on to another area. He was half tempted to take her some place and do this over and over too bad he knew that the hopes and fantasies only worked one time once they were released. He watched as the man fell over the rooftop plummeting ten stories below. Then it hit him, she didn't want to believe he was dead, she lived with the hope that his man, a killer like he was, was alive. He was learning everything about this woman and her friends. He could knew that Alex, the dark haired one had a boyfriend named Jason, that the blonde, Natalie had a dog named Spike, and he knew that none of Dylan's friends knew that she wore the dead assassins medallion. She was afraid of what they would say if they knew.  
  
Slowly Dylan's eyes closed. "No," he whispered. "It was too good it couldn't be over so quickly. Carefully he released her thin neck from his hands and went to carry her to the water. "No Creepy Thin Man this time, Dylan." He said as he held her in his arms and carried her to the concrete railing of Lambeth Bridge. Before he could throw her in she opened her eyes and using the rail as a brace pushed backwards with all her might. They fell together on the blacktop in a heap. She coughed trying to catch her breath.  
  
"Dylan?! Dylan!?" She could hear her friends rounding the corner calling her name. The man struggled to get up but she jumped on his back and he stumbled trying to extricate himself from her grip and away from the other two angels. Flipping Dylan off his back he turned to run only to be faced by Alex and Natalie. He looked over his shoulder at the redhead struggling to pick herself up off the ground.  
  
"On the ground," said Natalie calmly. Slowly the man lowered himself to his hands and knees. "Put your hands on your head and lay on your stomach.  
  
Without emotion he looked at the slender blonde and wondered what her hopes and fears were. "The ground is cold."  
  
"So. Get down. Alex," she started.  
  
"Already called the police. Inspector Morrison and Bosley are on their way," replied the dark haired angel out of breath.  
  
He looked up at Dylan, "He's alive." His smile caused her to turn away from him. She wasn't sure how but he knew what was in her soul and it frightened her yet she couldn't help but wonder if the man was right, if Anthony really was alive. "No," she told herself, "you saw him die. He fell with his sword through his chest and Seamus followed by the letter landed on him. He couldn't have survived."  
  
"Dylan?" Alex's voice startled her causing her to jump. "He's cuffed are you okay?" It was the second time she had been asked that within the last five minutes and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. My throat's a little sore."  
  
"Let me take a look." Carefully Alex helped her remove the scarf. By the look in the Asian angel's eyes Dylan could see that it had to be bad.  
  
"So?"  
  
"It's not pretty," was all she said before Bosley and the inspector arrived on the scene. She and Natalie went over to join them leaving her alone with the man who attacked her.  
  
"You want to know don't you? You are curious?" he asked turning his head and straining his neck to see her. "I know you think about his kiss, wonder about his hands on you at night, what would have been." It was all she could do not to cover her ears; not wanting to hear it but never the less she did.  
  
He could feel everything she was feeling, her confusion, hatred of her self- betrayal, her desire to know if he was alive. Never before had he been so linked to his victim it was a new experience for him.  
  
Finally her curiosity took over. "Where is he?" He had to tell her. Despite the dreams she had stopped thinking about him constantly and the ache in her heart had faded within the past six months to an occasional twinge. The man smiled at her, a knowing smile and nodded towards the Inspector and two lesser officers who had accompanied him.  
  
"Miss Sanders, do you need to go to the hospital?" the inspector inquired looking at the bruises on her neck.  
  
Shaking her head she replied, "No, thanks. I'll be fine."  
  
"Did he say anything? Confess? It looked as though he was speaking to you." He pulled his coat tighter around himself to block the wind blowing in from the river. Dylan just shook her head. "Well if nothing else we have the attack on you and I'm sure he left enough DNA evidence behind on the others to put him away for ages." Signaling to the two officers they helped the big man get to his knees and to the patrol car that they had parked on one of the garden's service paths.  
  
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They were worried about Dylan. She didn't speak in the cab from the Chelsea Embankment to the hotel, just stared out the window at the passing scenery. Natalie and Bosley must have asked her a dozen times if she was okay and every time she nodded silently without turning from the window.  
  
"I know lets get some dinner," said Natalie trying to bring some life to the vehicle they were in. "Sir?" she tapped the driver on the shoulder.  
  
"Aye, Miss?" he said in his east London accent.  
  
"What is a good place for dinner?"  
  
"The missus and me like an Indian place in Bloomsbury. What is the name?" he drummed his finger tips on the steering wheel as he tried to think of it.  
  
"Indian?" asked Natlaie turning to her friends. Alex readily agreed as did Bosley, his stomach growling in anticipation. "Dylan?"  
  
"Whatever you want," she mumbled softly. Her lack of enthusiasm worried them. It wasn't like Dylan to be so upset or withdrawn after a case. They exchanged looks amongst themselves and it was agreed that something wasn't quite right with their friend.  
  
"Indian will be fine," Natalie told the drive.  
  
"Figured it would be, Miss. We're on the way now."  
  
When the cab pulled in front of the small but cozy restaurant the all got out except for Dylan she stayed within looking out the window, her steady breathing causing small blossoms of condensation to form on the glass. "Are you coming?" asked Alex leaning back in the car.  
  
Dylan jumped and shook her head. "No, I think I am going to go back to the hotel. I'm sort of tired its been a long day."  
  
"Why don't I come with you?" asked Alex about to get back into the cab.  
  
"No, no go have dinner and bring me back some tandoori chicken and papadams." It was difficult but she smiled a large smile hoping that it would convince them that she was okay.  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Natalie poking her head in.  
  
Dylan rolled her eyes she loved the three of them but she could take care of herself. "Yeah Im sure mom," she said hoping that the playful tone she intended came through. Before heading into the restaurant they told her good night and they wouldn't be out too long. Smiling she kissed their cheeks and closed the cab door.  
  
"So, Miss, what hotel can I take you to?"  
  
"Actually I forgot something at the police station earlier can you take me to the one on Charing Cross?"  
  
"Will do m'dear." He said and turned around to head towards the station. In the back seat Dylan leaned back and started formulating a plan in her mind. She had to know more about the man who attacked her and what he knew about the Thin Man. 


	2. 2

A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews. Ill try to get the next chapter posted soon but I am also working on something else. Enjoy!  
  
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The precinct was quieter than it had been earlier. The press, tired of waiting for information on the man they had dubbed the Westminster Strangler had apparently gone home. Dylan pulled open the glass door and stepped inside the warm stale air of the station. "Can I help you?" asked a young bobby. .  
  
Dylan smiled at the officer. "Yes, I'm one of the investigators who help capture the strangler I have a few more questions for him could I possibly see him?" she sweetly asked the nervous young cop.  
  
"I've got to check with my superiors you know but I don't see why not. Wait here a minute will you?" he asked and jogged off only to return not a second later, "I'm sorry how rude of me would you like some tea as you wait?"  
  
"No thank you. Just to talk to the prisoner." He gave her a brief nod and left again. Silently she hoped she hadn't offended him. She drank so much tea when they brought the man in she wasn't sure if she wanted to se another cup in her life. The sound on the television above the main desk was down but the photograph of an island with a large almost castle like building caught her eye. It was the orphanage that the Thin Man had grown up in. "Excuse me," she said and the pudgy man working the desk looked up. "Could you turn the volume up please?" He just grunted but obliged.  
  
"Sky News is reporting a large blaze that is engulfing the island of Catalina, located 20 miles from the southern California coast. The authorities suspect arson. Currently the population of fulltime residents, people on holiday and the children and church staff of "Our Lady of Perpetual Virginity" orphanage are being evacuated. This according to the governor of California the entire island is being declared a disaster zone and a great ecological loss. More after these words from our sponsor."  
  
Dylan could help but wonder what the nuns would do now. The Thin Man had been the sole benefactor of the orphanage. She also wondered if the he was alive what he would think of his childhood home being destroyed. "Miss Sanders?" came a voice from behind her. Turning she was face to face with Inspector Morrison.  
  
"Has he said anything?" she asked.  
  
"Just his name, Peter Carutasu. Our records show that he is a citizen of the United Kingdom and Great Britain and his family emigrated from Romania back in the early seventies. He has no previous criminal record. If you want to speak with him still I'll take you back to the holding cell. We do have a problem Miss Sanders. So far we can only hold him for the attack on you in the park."  
  
She stopped and turned to him. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean we have no evidence that connects him to the murders of those young women." Weariness was apparent in his posture. She could tell the case had taken a lot out of him but she didn't understand how they couldn't connect the man to the six dead women.  
  
"That's impossible."  
  
"I'm afraid its not. The man who attacked the other woman wore gloves. This man didn't when he attacked you. While the pressure marks on your neck are close they are still inconsistent with those of the other victims. No fibers or DNA found matches Mr. Carutasu. So far Dylan, it looks as though he is a copycat and he wanted to be caught."  
  
"Can I still go and see him?" she asked. It was disappointing if he wasn't the man they were after but there was something about him. She saw it in his eyes. Then again maybe it was the lack of oxygen while she was being choked by Carutasu that made her think she had seen all those things, that he had said to her that the Thin Man was alive because if it wasn't how did he know.  
  
"Of course," he said and continued leading the way. They approached the large steel door that separated the holding area from the rest of the precinct and punched in a code to the keypad. With a buzz the door lock clicked and he pushed the door open. "He is on the last cell on the left. I'll be waiting here for you. Don't be too long."  
  
Nodding to him she walked past the cells. Catcalls and whistles rang out from the men in the other cells. Ignoring them she continued down to the cell where her attacker, Peter Carutasu sat with his head in his hands. The man in the other cells hooted and whistled at whoever walked down the hallway, but he knew it was her which surprised him. The connection still remained. Not raising he head he said, "You want to know more don't you? You must or you wouldn't be here?"  
  
"I want you to confess to the murders. They will go easier on you if you do," she said hoping to bluff him.  
  
"We aren't the states. What are they going to go easy on? Life in prison? I can't get the death penalty"  
  
"You are saying then, that you didn't kill them."  
  
"I'm not admitting to it either," he said smiling at her. "Dylan, why don't we talk about why you are really here?" She looked at him puzzled. "You want to know about Him."  
  
"I don't know what you are talking about," she denied. To herself she thought, "Deny everything Dylan isn't that what you are good at." She had denied so much over the past year, denied that she had fallen in love, denied that his death bothered her, denied her friends from helping her. Denial was becoming more of a profession than private investigator.  
  
"Deny everything Dylan, isn't that what you are good at?" he said to her in a mocking tone. She looked up at him suddenly to find him staring at her.  
  
"Why did you say that?" she asked. Did he just read her mind? She was almost frightened to find out.  
  
"You have so many questions burning in your soul, ones you never asked yet wanted to know the answers to; however I have no incentive to answer them." Standing he began to pace his cell. Dylan didn't know what to say, she had never felt so confused. "Give me a reason Dylan; give me a reason to answer them."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"You know what I want just like I know what you had for breakfast this morning or that someone once called you 'Starfish'. Think Dylan, of what I want. Accept those thoughts in your head that aren't yours," he said starting at her with his ebony eyes.  
  
Sighing she dreaded the choice she was about to make. In the cab on the way she knew if she had to do this to get the answers she sought. Whether it was her idea or his she now wasn't sure, but the urgent feeling that she had to do it persisted, gnawing at her. "Fine. I'll be back." Turning she walked back down the corridor of catcalls and buzzed Inspector Morrison who stood patiently waiting on the other side of the door As he opened it the door swinging outward she said, "I'm not pressing charges." Morrison looked down at the young woman not comprehending what she was saying. "Since you can't connect him to the other murders I'm not pressing charges. If there is another attack while he is out we can try getting him for that one but there is no point holding an innocent man."  
  
"Are you mad?" he exclaimed throwing up his hands. "The man attacked you; almost killed you and you want him to go free?" The girl was as crazy as the man in the cell.  
  
"No, I want to be able to catch the perp. He won't confess so the easiest thing to do will be to catch him in the act." She said trying to explain and hoping that it sounded reasonable although to her it sounded ridiculous.  
  
"We have caught him in the act, attacking you. If he hadn't attacked you it would have been someone else in the park. Perhaps you haven't looked in a mirror at your throat. If you haven't maybe you should before you decided not to press charges." The volume of the inspector's voice caused the other officers around him to cringe but Dylan held her ground. The whole precinct watching didn't deter her from standing up to him.  
  
"That isn't my point. I think we can have him for all the murders if we let him go. Let him think he is off the hook and he is no longer suspect. I'm not pressing charges," she concluded folding her arms across her chest defiantly.  
  
"Fine. Bledsoe!" he called to another officer. "Get the paperwork ready for Caratasu's release. "If he kills again though I want you to know that I will hold you as an accessory. Don't think I won't," he said and stormed off leaving those around them looking as stunned as she felt. She won and maybe her questions would finally be answered.  
  
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Inspector Morrison was good at his job; highly decorated with medals of honor from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth herself. He had solved eight of the ten biggest cases to come to Scotland Yard in the last five years and now case eleven, the strangler case was being sabotaged by the American woman. Something didn't add up. She had seemed more determined than any of them to see the man imprisoned but now he was she was just as determined to have him released. Perhaps it was nothing more than a strange case of something similar to Stockholm Syndrome, still without her pressing charges they couldn't hold him for longer than twenty four hours. Once Caratasu was released he would be on him, no he would be on them. There was something funny about how the Sanders woman was acting and he would find out exactly what it was.  
  
Picking up the phone he punched in an extension. "James? Morrison here. I have a favor to ask. Yes, it's regarding a case. I have someone I need you to follow discreetly. Who? A suspect she is 5'7" red hair, green eyes, American. Name? Oh right, her name is Dylan Sanders. Yes, she is one of the detectives from Los Angeles. Just a hunch I have. So you'll keep an eye on her? Splendid! She and her friends are staying at the London Bridge Hotel. Keep me up to date. Goodbye." And with that he hung up the phone. "If you want to play games Dylan we will play games."  
  
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Dylan went outside and caught a cab passing the station. The officer, Bledsoe had told her that it would take time to process the paperwork to release Cartasu and that he would be free in the morning. She wondered if she did the right thing or he would bolt and run killing more people and leaving her looking like an idiot. She wondered to herself how she would find him once he was out but a part of her already knew the answer to that she wouldn't have to find him, he would find her. He said they were connected and after knowing that the Chad called her "Starfish" she didn't doubt it. How could it be? It wasn't possible but she would find out soon enough she hoped.  
  
"Miss where to?" asked the cabby impatiently.  
  
"Oh," she said awakened from her thoughts. "London Bridge Hotel." As she replied he pulled away from the curb and started down the darkened London streets.  
  
"Are you American?" he asked looking into his rearview mirror so he could see her as he talked to her.  
  
"Yes from California."  
  
"D'ya hear about the fire out that way?" he asked. "Sound's like nasty business. The wife always wanted to see California. Me? I'm scared to myself, them rumblers ya get. Earthquakes." He shivered to show his dislike for them. "Nothing like that here in jolly ol' England."  
  
Dylan smiled. "The quakes aren't too bad. They don't happen that often. We get more fires like the one on the news than earthquakes."  
  
"Been to the little island then have you?"  
  
"I mean southern California in general but yes, I've been there. I had a friend that grew up there."  
  
"Hope he's okay."  
  
"Yeah me too," said Dylan her mind drifting back to the fact the Thin Man might still be alive. "Me too." 


	3. 3

A/N I want to give a big thank you once again, to all my reviewers. I am so glad you took the time to tell me what you think. It means a lot to me. So here is chapter 3. Once again I do not own Charlie's Angels, Bosley, Seamus (only mentioned in this story) or the Thin Man  
  
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The cab driver dropped Dylan off at the London Bridge Hotel where the doorman greeted her with a polite nod and held the door for her to enter. Making her way through the lobby to the elevators she wondered if the angels were done with dinner and if they were up in their rooms wondering where she had been. How would she explain where she had gone? Inwardly she debated whether or not to tell them about her sojourn to the Charing Cross police station. She knew they wouldn't be happy about her dropping the charges against Cartusu and would want an explanation. That was something she couldn't explain. They wouldn't understand what happened tonight and think it was just job stress or and over active imagination. She had thought the same at first but he knew her thoughts.  
  
"Be logical Dylan. What were you thinking?" she asked slapping herself mentally. She couldn't believe that she was willfully requested that a man like Cartusu be set free. He was a violent criminal and Morrison was right if he hadn't attacked her in the park it would have been some one else. Everything had made so much sense before while he was being arrested and it made sense while she was there at the station but now the foggy feeling in her head was lifting the sense wasn't there anymore. She wondered what Inspector Morrison would say if she called him up and told him that she changed her mind. Of course Morrison would probably be too happy to keep him in jail but what would that do to her reputation and the reputation of the agency? Placing the key card in the lock she opened the door to the suite she shared with the others and went inside.  
  
"Hello? Anyone here?" she asked calling into the darkened room. No answer, but she didn't really expect one either. She had taken maybe a half and hour at the station and then a ten minute cab ride. It would have taken the angels and Bosley more time than that to order drinks and decide what they wanted and then eat. Walking into her bedroom she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her boots off. Once they were in a heap on the floor she dug through her suitcase and found her pajamas. She wanted to take a shower but that could wait until morning she was too tired, physically and mentally to worry about that. Taking off her clothes she changed and slipped under the soft eiderdown quilt of the hotel bed. Her last thought before falling asleep was how good it felt to be off her feet.  
  
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"Dylan was acting strange," said Natalie simply as she stared at the menu. "I think I'll have the Dal Makhni."  
  
Alex set her menu aside, "I'm going with the Chicken Masala. Do you think she was? I think its normal after being attacked like that."  
  
"Normal for someone else maybe but this is Dylan we are talking about. She manages to come out of every assignment smiling. She was even okay after Seamus took a fall from the roof and died."  
  
Alex and Bosley looked at her. "What?" she asked confused. "Yeah Seamus was an asshole but at one point she really loved him. I know if it was my ex I would have seen the good that he had in him, whatever appealed to me in him, laying there impaled the Creepy Thin Man."  
  
"Then you didn't see it?" asked Alex confused and wondering why only now, a year and a half later did they start talking about Dylan and that night.  
  
"Didn't see what?" asked Natalie worriedly.  
  
Alex had seen the kiss between her friend and the assassin. It was hard for her to believe that Dylan would voluntarily kiss him and if anyone had told her what she was about to tell Natalie she wouldn't have believed it. At the premier of Maximum Extreme 2 she tried to reason out the kiss and at the time thought it to be Dylan getting caught up in the moment with the bad guy; something Dylan did quite a bit but then she realized there was more to it. "Okay here it goes, Dylan was upset but not about Seamus. She was upset about the Creepy Thin Man."  
  
"I don't get it," said Natalie.  
  
"Me either," said Bosley. Then the waiter came over they all proceeded to order. Once he left, Alex continued.  
  
More to herself than to her friends she said, "I can't believe we are just now talking about this." "Okay," she sat straighter, leaned forward a bit, and looked at Natalie. "You were fighting Madison and I was working on his goons. I turned around and there was the Thin Man standing there smoking a cigarette. Suddenly he tossed it to the ground and I assumed he was going to attack so I attacked him and he fended himself off."  
  
"I know this," said Natalie. "Didn't you say he killed one who came up behind you with a knife?"  
  
Alex nodded. "Then there was a scream from Dylan as Seamus held her over the edge of the roof."  
  
"And he pulled her up," said Bosley. "We know this but being grateful doesn't make a girl get depressed when a guy dies does it?"  
  
"Okay okay I told you that part but as I finished off another thug I saw the two of them kiss." She watched as Natalie looked at her with wide eyes. "Now before you say anything it wasn't a peck on the cheek it was a full- blown kiss."  
  
"Wow!" said Natalie. "So you think that was why she was sort of off after the HALO case? She fell for the bad guy."  
  
Alex nodded again. "I'm surprised you didn't know."  
  
"I just thought it was about Seamus. I didn't realize. How come you never said anything?" she asked feeling bad that she wasn't there for her best friend when she needed her. "I didn't think it was my place and she seemed to get over it pretty fast. I only noticed because she had been quiet and not our usual bouncy tomboy. I asked her about it but she didn't say much just said that it was her time of the month."  
  
Bosley covered his ears, "I do not need to know that you ladies have times of the month okay? Too much information."  
  
"Sorry Bos, we won't talk about that," said Alex as she and Natalie laughed. "Anyway the next day she was back to her old self or seemed to be."  
  
"Then maybe it wasn't the Thin Man and it was." Natalie stopped as Bosley's hand flew back up to his ears. "Okay see she does get effected by cases so she wasn't being weird. Still I'm worried about her. Maybe I should call the hotel and see how she is."  
  
"And risk waking her up if she is asleep? Damn girl, your braver than I am," replied Bosley taking a sip of his Chai tea.  
  
"I have a bad feeling," said Natalie "In other words my angel senses are tingling." With that she grabbed her coat and headed for the door.  
  
"Hang on Nat," called Alex, "I'm coming too. Bos, can you have the waiter pack everything into boxes? Thanks." With that she walked quickly to the door to join Natalie.  
  
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In his cell Cartusu lay on the cot and stared out the small bared window at the night sky. A building across the street blocked most of it from his view except for a small strip of black with a few twinkling stars. They would be perfect for his entry into her mind. Going into a live mind was a risk he had never tried before; it was dangerous because a living mind was much more powerful than a dying one. Focusing on one of the stars in the strip he let his mind go. "Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale," he mumbled quietly to himself. Soon his breathing and pulse shallowed and he felt his mind un-tether itself from his body. When he learned how to do this his teacher told him he needed to see exactly where he would be going or he might not make it back to his body. Although this was dangerous he didn't think he would have any trouble finding the Sanders woman. Their connection was still strong. How long would it last? That he didn't know but he would use it until he couldn't anymore. He had a feeling it would either amount to his or her demise but that was a chance he was willing to take.  
  
His mind floated above the city, over the quiet black waters of the Thames, past Waterloo Station to the Southwark district. The Tower Bridge was illuminated in the distance against the night sky, the lights of it shining like the stars. Her mind was out there calling to him, he could feel it. "Focus," he told himself as he scanned the area. To come this far and not be able to find her would be sadly funny. Suddenly he felt his mind expand as Dylan's opened into a world of dreams.  
  
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The dream was starting and as usual she didn't want it to. It was always the same and despite her forays into the realm of lucid dreaming she couldn't get the outcome to change. She had tried everything to stop it from coming to her every night, seeing the Thin Man die every night had started to take its toll on her. After the first six months of dreaming it she was afraid to go to sleep at night out of fear of seeing his wide startled eyes as Seamus impaled him on his own sword again. Alex had noticed and asked her what was wrong and she had given her a hasty answer about Aunt Flo visiting. Knowing that Alex wouldn't let up and probably include Natalie and Bosley in her concern Dylan broke down and went to see a psychologist.  
  
Seeing a psychologist hadn't been an easy decision to make and it wasn't one that helped much. It was the psychologist who had recommended lucid dreaming which was a big flop. Finally out of desperation and the sense that the angels would start asking questions she went to a regular doctor, told him that she was having trouble sleeping and he gave her a prescription of sleeping tablets. They did the job half the time keeping it so the dreams were at bay and that was enough for her to feel half way normal, but she hadn't brought them with her to London. She didn't understand why this wasn't something she couldn't share with the other angels, she just couldn't. Was it because she was afraid they wouldn't understand the brief connection she had with Anthony? She only called him Anthony in her mind, in her dreams. The main reason she thought sometimes; although she couldn't find away to vocalize it to herself or them, was that she was afraid that they would see her as being weak.  
  
Seamus held her over the edge of the roof. The release of his hand from around her throat startled her. Suddenly Anthony was pulling her upwards. She tried the lucid dreaming, "Anthony we have to get out of here," she said as he looked down at her with anger and softening into something else. "Anthony you have to listen to me," he stroked her cheek and lowered his lips to hers. Once again it didn't work once again he would be killed she thought as she savoured his kiss. Bracing herself for the inevitable hair pull but it didn't come. Instead she opened her eyes and screamed. She wasn't kissing Anthony but Cartusu.  
  
"I know you and you know me," he said laughing at her. She looked around and time in the dream slowed. She saw Natalie throw a punch at Madison and Madison begin to avoid it, everyone was moving as though someone it the slo- mo button. "We are one and the same. I know you are giving me what I want I'll give you what you want. What are you prepared to sacrifice for it Dylan? Nothing we truly want comes without a sacrifice. Your friends? Charlie? Yourself? Think Dylan I will want an answer." With that he slowly dissolved and Anthony came back in focus but not before time sped back to its original speed. Once again Dylan screamed as the Thin Man stumbled and fell off the roof top.  
  
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The angels opened the hotel suite door only to be confronted by screams. Running they threw open the door to Dylan's room and turned the light on. She was thrashing about in the bed. "Dylan," called Natalie as she sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook her friend. "Dylan?" The red-head didn't respond.  
  
"Dylan, its Alex, wake up," Alex patted her face still nothing happened. "She is in a really deep sleep." Gently she lifted her sleeping friends arm and took her pulse. "Her heart beat it fast, its almost as if she is working out. "Dylan," said Alex louder and more urgently.  
  
Suddenly Dylan screamed again and sat up right, eyes open but unseeing. "Dylan sweetie," Natalie said in her most calming voice. Dylan looked around finally awake and threw her arms around Natalie sobbing against the thin blonde's shoulder. "Sshh.its okay Dyl, we're here for you." Unlike Alex, Natalie never noticed the gold medallion hanging around Dylan's neck. 


	4. 4

Hi this chapter is kind of short. Sorry about that but its not an easy story to write I have discovered. I'm also working on something else at the same time. Please review and give me a reason to continue this. Thanks!  
  
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After Dylan had fallen back a sleep Natalie went into the sitting room of the suit to join Alex and Bosley who had arrived bearing food. "That must have been one heck of a dream she had," said Natalie pulling a diet Coke out of the mini-bar. "What do you think it was about?"  
  
"Didn't she say anything?" asked Alex concerned.  
  
"No, she just lay down and went back to sleep. I think she was trying not to cry though."  
  
Bosley took a place next to Alex on the couch, "Sounds like our Dylan."  
  
"I don't know what is wrong but I am worried about her. I think it's more than what we discussed in the restaurant. Alex? Do you think that we can get her to open up to us?"  
  
"Well we know something is going on with her. I'm pretty certain it has to do with the Thin Man. Did..." Alex was cut off by the ringing of the phone. "Hello," she said into the receiver.  
  
Dylan stood in the door way listening to her friends. She was glad they were concerned for her a little scared too. If she had doubted everything she had seen in Cartusu's eyes before, the dream left little room for doubt. She had never been able to alter the course the dream and he had. "Come on Dylan, you know that it's impossible," said her mind. However that didn't change the fact that he had changed the dream and if it he could do that then that could mean her friends were in danger again because of her. "How could I be so stupid," she wondered. "Okay maybe not stupid, foolish? Naïve?"  
  
From the tone of the conversation in the sitting room she could tell who was on the phone. It was Inspector Morrison. "I don't understand," said Alex. "She wouldn't do that." Natalie came closer so she could hear as well, pressing her ear against the back of the receiver. "So you are saying that in the morning Cartusu will be released?" There was a long pause while she listened some more. "Well extend our stay however long it takes to catch him. Yes I understand. I'll pass the information on, thank you Inspector." With that she hung up the phone.  
  
"What was that about?" asked Bosley.  
  
"That was Inspector Morrison. He says that Dylan dropped all charges against Cartusu," said Alex glancing at the door to the room in which Dylan was supposed to be sleeping. Dylan ducked back into the shadows hoping they didn't notice that she was awake.  
  
"I don't get it? Why would she do that?" asked Natalie. "You don't think she fell for the bad guy again? Do you?"  
  
"No, but in light of her dropping the charges the Inspector would like us to stay longer and work on the strangler case," said Alex as she stood and went to get herself a drink. "Bos, want a Coke?"  
  
"Yeah toss me one," he called. The can of Coke sailed effortless across the room straight into his hand. "Dwight Gooden watch out here comes Alex Munday." Alex just smiled at him and continued. "He also said that while we were still on the case he didn't want Dylan being involved any longer."  
  
"What?" Natalie was getting tired of all the surprises of the day. "He can't do that. We're a team and she.."  
  
"And she has been benched," Alex finished for her. "I think we need to talk to her about this. Find out why she did it. Maybe she had a good reason."  
  
From the darkened room Dylan shook her head. They could ask her but she didn't have a good reason other than looking for a man that was supposed to be dead and buried. Alex was right when she mentioned the Thin Man. After Madison Lee met her demise in the old theater Dylan and the other angels gave their statements to the police. After the premier was over she ran into one of the officers on the scene and he told her that the two bodies in the alley way had both been DOA. Later she found out that the nuns had the body of the Thin Man who they called Anthony cremated. A strong pain consumed her heart. It made no sense to her. It was one kiss. She had had kisses before from various men and they meant nothing. She had had sex with various men that meant even less so how did he become more to her in the few moments they were together? "Why did I do it? Why did I free Cartusu?" she asked herself. Did she really want him to be alive that desperately?  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed she fingered the medallion that hung around her head in her hands. "Nothing we truly want comes without sacrifice," she said softly to herself repeating the words Cartusu spoke in her dream. "Well I guess I have already sacrificed my career and reputation what else can he want from me?" Quietly she stood and rummaged through her suitcase. Finding a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt she got dressed, pulled on Alex's boots and exited out the second door to her room which led to the hotel hallway. Her feet made no sound on the plush carpeting as she made her way to the elevator. Where she was going she didn't now but the room and her friends, although she knew they meant well, were smothering her.  
  
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Cartusu lay on his cot back from his sojourn into Dylan's mind. Oh what a place it was from what he had seen! So much she had locked away from herself, a treasure chest waiting for him to open it up. The dream she had shown him, whether or not she knew it she had shown it to him purposefully. It was a great feeling knowing that he had power over her, that he would be free from his cell like he had so many times before. Even though he was back in his own body he could still feel her presence all around him, pure. The women he had killed, they had all been drug addicts, prostitutes, child abusers but Dylan. He sighed, she was untarnished her soul clean. The Teacher oh so many years ago never told him it could be like it was with her, but he had suspected the teacher of withholding much information from him.  
  
The Teacher was the last in a long line of teachers of the old ways. Rumours had it that he was descended from the teacher that taught Vlad Tepes, Vlad the Impaler, Count Dracula. Cartusu could believe that about the Teacher and wondered where he was today, if he was still consuming vessels to continue his long life. So far he had only one other vessel, a young man whose body he now possessed but he could still remember when he had been known as Anatoly Florescu. It was just coincidence that his vessel, Peter Cartusu was also of Romanian heritage. His consumption of Cartusu had been awkward and damaging that is why he had to find a new vessel and soon.  
  
"You!" called a bobby waking him from his thoughts. "The paperwork for your release is finished. You're free to go."  
  
Cartusu looked briefly around the bleak cell that he had been held in. No, he wouldn't miss it not for a moment. Following swiftly behind the bobby he asked, "What time is it?"  
  
"After midnight. Do I look like a clock?" replied the bobby nastily. "There are some papers you need to sign." They walked over to a cluttered desk and he handed the soon to be free man an ink pen. "Sign here and here," he pointed to two lines at the bottom of a form titled, "Release Form A8-c5". Cartusu signed and was handed a box which contained his possessions; wrist watch, keys, and wallet which he flipped though to make sure everything was still inside.  
  
"It was nice staying with you," he said with a beaming smile and strolled out into the night air, inhaling the damp mist deeply. He wanted to go out and look for more prey but he wasn't sure if it would harm the link he had formed with the angel. No, no matter how much he wanted to consume, to eat, he couldn't take the chance. It was almost love that he felt for Dylan, he thought heading towards the Embankment Gardens, something deep, something that happens when two souls touch. As he sat on a bench under the orange sodium light he expanded his mind.  
  
Dylan didn't know where she was going. It didn't matter; she couldn't stay inside the hotel room any longer. The doorman gave her a funny look as she stepped out into the night and started walking. There was no rhyme or reason to where she was going. Stepping on to a larger street she started following it. At one intersection she looked up and saw a sign that said she was at the intersection of Soutwark Rode and Blackfriars, then another directing her towards Waterloo Station. Considering turning back she heard a voice behind her. "My how your hair shines with fire even in this light."  
  
Turning suddenly she stood in a defensive pose. No one was there. "Okay Cartusu come out. I know you are there," she called into the night.  
  
"Follow my voice Dylan, follow me."  
  
"I don't think so," she yelled. "If you come near me again I'll throw your ass back in jail." A deep masculine laugh emerged from all around her.  
  
From an apartment above the street an older couple peered out their window to see who was waking them from their sleep. All they saw was a young woman with red hair yelling at no one. The older woman shook her head and said to her husband, "such a pretty thing. Too bad she has ruined herself on drugs." Her husband shrugged and climbed back into bed.  
  
"I don't think you will. You want to know about Anthony and I can help you. I can take you to him. You want that don't you?" asked the voice. An icy wind blew the collar of her jacket open exposing the medallion she wore around her neck. "It's lovely. I noticed it when I came for you today."  
  
She shook herself. "I'm hallucinating. I have to be. It must be from when he hit my head today," she muttered.  
  
"Dylan, you know I am for real. Accept it. Accept me."  
  
"Okay," she decided. She would play along with her mind. "You say you know what I want. Well what do you want? You said a sacrifice what did you mean?"  
  
"In due time Dylan, in due time. Tomorrow I want you to come alone to St. Alban's Road number 22. Come alone and we can find your Thin Man for you." As suddenly as the voice came it left causing her to collapse to her knees on the pavement. Her head felt light as though it wasn't really part of her anymore. She had to get back to the hotel. Waiting a minute until she felt more like herself she continued on her way. 


	5. 5

No real intro but please review. Thanks.  
  
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He surveyed the burnt out hull of the old building with cold pale eyes. No, he didn't think it was an accident caused by a young boy playing with matches. So far the sheriff had accepted the wishes of the Mother Superior to keep the cause of the fire under wraps. Of course the public would be outraged if they knew the cause of the fire was arson; a can of gasoline and a match but he also know if the Brotherhood found out he was still alive they could possibly come for the children and the nuns again.  
  
It was obvious that the arsonist they hired wasn't a professional. If he was the man doubted that they would have burnt down 75% of the island as well. He knew that by seeking sanctuary at the orphanage he had placed them all in danger. The fire came as no surprise. The surprise was that they hadn't found him sooner. He smirked at the smoking mess, "Such and obvious message directly to me." They knew the cremation never took place because he was never dead.  
  
He was very close to death for awhile and he would have gladly accepted it but the events on the rooftop of the theater wouldn't let him. He felt something for the first time since the Brotherhood came to him when he was sixteen to inform him as to his birthright. He remembered rejecting the man who had come to him and identified himself as the Teacher realizing that they had killed his parents and the entire circus troop to get to him. In fact before the Teacher he had considered entering the priesthood. Still he eventually accepted the Teacher once he was convinced that he could do more good for the orphanage in a non-clerical capacity. So in the summer of his seventeenth year he left the only home he had for the previous ten years.  
  
Reluctantly he let his mind wander to the angel and reaching into his pocket her pulled out a strand of rose gold hair and caressed it against his face closing his eyes, delighting in its texture and memories of its former owner. She is what gave him the will and the courage to keep on living. The fall would have killed a normal man but he had long ago accepted that he wasn't normal. He had broken most of his ribs, dislocated a shoulder and badly injured one of his hips. The hip was now held in place with titanium pins and he walk with a slight limp and used the sword as a cane now rather than the cane as a sword.  
  
When the Brotherhood came for him they would have expected him to have a healthy body to continue what they called their "work". He wouldn't give up his current one yet although he had been tempted when he landed in the alleyway and felt as though his lungs were on fire from the blood swirling around in them. When Seamus moved he was tempted to claim him but he knew that he could never have the angel that way. Then the E fell. He remembered the shower of sparks vividly and the heat from them against his face. A yell of "M'God Seamus!" in a thick brogue echoed down the alley and much to the Thin Man's relief the thug was roughly the same build as he was. Perhaps God was still watching out for him.  
  
The Irishman grunted and pushed the large letter off the pair while he played dead. He didn't doubt if the Irishman realized he was still alive he wouldn't be for long. After much work the kin of Seamus O'Grady managed to remove the bigger man off the Thin Man's body. "What a souvenir," he said as he rolled the assassin over and pulled the sword from his back. God was on his side as Seamus' body exhaled the remaining gasses from its lungs distracting the Irishman. It was now or never. He had to kill again before it was too late. Forcing himself to sit up, then to stand, he stealthily approached the man leaning over the body of his fallen cousin. With all the strength he had left he turned the shocked man around and pressed his fingers into the man's throat choking the life out of him. Greed, pride, lust, sloth, gluttony the Irishman possessed four of the five sins and his deeds.the Thin Man couldn't hang on to him long or he would have to take the vessel of the slimy little man but he could feel his minor wounds healing, he felt stronger.  
  
He let go of the man's throat and removed the sword from the hand of the man who was gasping for air. "A souvenir indeed," he though as he waved the tip at the man signaling that he should take off his clothes. The man shook his head coughing. The Thin Man pressed the tip of the sword against his heart in an indication that he would kill him if he didn't do as he was told. The Irishman who he now knew was Killian O'Grady undressed down to his red heart boxer shorts. He nodded at Killian in approval and ran him through in the same location that Seamus had stabbed him on the rooftop. Matching wounds. Killian looked confused as he dropped to his knees. Withdrawing the sword he quickly changed from his into the dying man's clothes, dressed the man in his and reinserted the sword.  
  
Hours later he arrived at the orphanage. The Mother Superior took him in without any questions and called the local doctor. As he fell asleep in pain and exhaustion that first night he remembered her saying, "No police, he is here for sanctuary." It was the first time that he realized that the Mother Superior knew that there was more to him than a generous benefactor. Now as he placed the hair back in his pocket and lit a cigarette he knew he had to leave again.  
  
"Anthony," said the Mother Superior joining him looking at the smoldering heap.  
  
Quickly he removed the small leather bound note pad from his pocket along with a pen. Placing the cigarette between his lips to free his hands, he scribbled an account number and a bank name. Then he wrote, "There should be enough in this account to help with the reconstruction." Then he added as an afterthought, "If not complete it." Then he tore it out handing it to her.  
  
"You know I love you Anthony. It is almost as though you are the son I never had." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I love all the boys here for they are gifts God but you came to me when I doubted my faith most; regretted not having a son or daughter of my own. It was as though God brought you to me specifically Anthony."  
  
He was about to write how he was not from God at all when she placed her hand on his and stopped him. "I know you feel this is your fault but my son, you are not to blame for the actions of a wicked few. That is why I permitted you sanctuary. You don't think I am blind do you? I know of your actions, your blood money. I also know that you are repentant which is why I accept what you give us."  
  
He lowered his eyes and she placed a kiss on the top of his head. Writing again he handed her a note. "They have found me. I have to go."  
  
Sadly she nodded. "The children will miss you." He turned and walked off.  
  
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Dylan was awakened the next morning to Alex pulling open the thick draperies of the bedroom allowing the sun to stream into the room blinding her. "Good morning sleepyhead", chirped Natalie presenting her with breakfast. Bosley followed close behind carrying a newspaper.  
  
It was confusing. She could barely remember the night before but she knew she went out and she had no idea how she got home. Throwing the blankets back she was surprised that she was in her pajamas. "Maybe I dreamt it all," she said to herself. The others were standing there looking at her as confused as she felt.  
  
"Are you okay Dylan?" asked Natalie pressing a cool palm to her head.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. I guess I'm just a little disoriented this morning. So," she said sitting up and pulling the breakfast tray closer to her, "how was dinner last night?"  
  
Her friends exchanged looks. "How did you sleep?" asked Alex.  
  
"Good," she replied. She wasn't about to tell them that she went wondering about south London and heard voices in her mind from the killer she set free. Although the police couldn't pin the murders of the other women on him she knew that Cartusu killed them. She had seen it last night when he had invaded her mind again.  
  
"Are you sure? You had a pretty bad nightmare."  
  
"Did I?" It wasn't what she considered a nightmare. It was a dream, the same dream she had every night. Then slowly it began to come back to her. She kissed Anthony and it wasn't him it was Cartusu. "I guess I did."  
  
"Well we thought that after the rough day you had yesterday that you might want to just relax today. Breakfast in bed, lounge around watch some TV, and maybe take in some of the sights," said Alex. She hated to do this to Dylan but they had to respect Scotland Yard's and Charlie's decision. They had talked to Charlie first thing that morning and he seemed to agree that Dylan had been overstressed and needed a break, but he knew as well as the others that she wouldn't do it unless she was forced.  
  
"You know guys I'm fine. Just let me run through the shower and get dressed then I'll come with you."  
  
The three of them exchanged looks. "Listen Dylan, just take today off. Rest. If you want to help why don't you look and see if you can find any other murders over the years that match these ones?" suggested Natalie. Finally it dawned on Dylan what was going on She wasn't sure how she had lost the entire evening before but it was coming back to her now. They had gotten word that Cartusu was free and she was off the case. "This is about my dropping the charges isn't it."  
  
"Dylan."stared Natalie but Alex finished, "Why did you drop the charges?"  
  
She knew the question would be asked sooner or later and although she thought about it she didn't have any answer for them. "I had my reasons."  
  
"Well care to share them?" asked Natalie in what she hoped didn't sound mean.  
  
"Actually no. So if you guys are going maybe you should go now. You wouldn't want to keep Inspector Morrison waiting," she snapped angrily. Then she threw the lid to the silver tray that held her breakfast across the room nearly hitting Bosley, surprise evident on their faces.  
  
"Okay Dylan. We just want you to feel better," said Natalie giving her a hug which she shook off. Alex and Bosley said quiet good byes and they all left the room.  
  
She didn't know what was wrong with her. Her nerves were so raw. She didn't mean to yell at them. She defiantly didn't mean to throw the tray. Getting out of bed she picked up the lid and caught a glimpse of her reflection in it. What she saw shocked her. Placing the tray lid back on the bed she went to the bathroom to check out the mirror there. It was the same. Through her hair she had strands of black. She wondered if the other angels saw them too. It wasn't obvious she supposed but the equivalent of having a gray hair, or in her case ten to twenty gray hairs. Carefully she plucked them out and threw them in the wastepaper basket. 


	6. 6

A/N Hi, here is the next chapter. It was pretty much ready yesterday but I wanted to fix it up before posting. I don't know when the next will be done as I am working on a couple things one of which is another story (not CA related).  
  
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Cartusu paced his cluttered small one room apartment in the Woodford area of London. It wasn't cheep to live there but it was away from the bustling temptation of the humanity that was downtown. The crowds of people bumping into one another on the streets, squeezed together in the underground, the delicious scent of their fears and desires pouring off of them. Sometimes he had the urge to kill not to relieve his own hunger but to put the poor mortals out of their misery. The wider spaces of Woodford gave him a respite.  
  
"When will she be here?" he asked himself. "Patience, Anatoly," he responded. He still thought of himself as his last incarnation. He had been Anatoly Florescu for seventy years before the body wore out at its age of ninety two. After seventy years of being someone else it was hard to get used to the broad pudgy face that now stared back at him every morning. Sighing he sat in the battered arm chair. He wished he would have taken his time before choosing this vessel. He had been so desperate when the body had suffered a stroke he grabbed the first one to come along. Mustering up all the strength he had he took the orderly who came to change the wet sheets he was laying on; dank with urine from his then uncontrollable bladder. Unfortunately the young man, Peter Cartusu didn't even realize he had cancer and advanced cancer at that and neither did he until the second before the exchange was complete.  
  
Smiling to himself he remembered the look in the eyes of the incapacitated body of Anatoly Florescu, the shocked look of the soul of Peter Cartusu trapped in the shell. If he could have he would have gladly sucked the fear that came off the old man in waves into himself but that would have been dangerous. Now he needed a new host. The lives he took from the women kept the cancer at bay but it was impossible to stop but he found a new vessel and quite by accident. Oh and she was delightful. Really he hadn't wanted to be a female again. Too many problems; pregnancy and menstruation to name two; of course modern science had seemed to make those things more bearable. He still he hated being petite and weak but the angel. "What a wonderful name for her," he thought. "She will be my saviour." She was strong; he had seen that the way she resisted him at in the garden, letting him think she was dead yet springing to life. One day, maybe once she arrived even, he would tell her how grand he found that.  
  
No, he wouldn't tell her that until he took her and he wasn't ready for that yet. She was too much fun to play with. He was the cat and she was the mouse. Then he corrected himself she wasn't a mouse, mice are too tiny, no she was a rat; smart and strong. He would help her find the man she called Anthony only in her own mind and never out loud. Then he would take her and enjoy as she watched what she thought would make her happy become lost to her again.  
  
The man, Anthony, he worried Cartusu. There was something about him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had seen in Dylan's dreams the man had no fear. There was no one who had no fear. Fear is what made mortals who they are because all fears came down to one thing, fear of death. Whether it was fear of the dark, fear of heights, fear of spiders, or something else why were people afraid? Because their true fear was that those things could harm them and place them face to face with the Grim Reaper himself. "Ah Dylan, come to me and we will find your friend and I will make him afraid. I will make him very afraid."  
  
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Alex, Natalie and Bosley stepped out from the police station into the mid- morning sun. They hadn't discussed Dylan's behavior in the cab ride over because none of them were sure just what to say. "I just don't know what has gotten into Dylan," sighed the brunette shielding her eyes with her hand.  
  
"I know what you mean, she has never been physically violent towards anyone before," said Natalie then she added, "with out just cause anyway. Do you really think its just stress?"  
  
"She has been stressed before and it hasn't been like this. Plus she passed the last physical and psychological with flying colors," said Bosley. After Madison Lee jeopardized the agency when she was an angel Charlie had initiated semi-annual physicals and psychological tests given by the best physicians and mental health professionals in California. "In fact she showed up more stable than any of us. I know I'm not supposed to talk about it but seeing I had to file the reports I happened to see the tests. Hell I thought that one inkblot was shaped like a potato. Apparently that means that I have some weird sort of .." He faded off as he noticed the women giving him odd looks. "Anyway she seemed fine until yesterday."  
  
"You know. I was going to go by this address that the Inspector gave us for Cartusu and ask him some more questions. Maybe he will give us a clue as to what is wrong with Dylan," said Natalie.  
  
"That's a good idea. I'm going to go by the last place he worked; according to this it was Cromwell Hospital. It's not far from here. Bos, maybe you could go back to the hotel and check on Dylan?" asked Alex.  
  
He responded by giving a small salute, "No prob." With that the three of them separated each hoping to stop a killer and to discover why Dylan was acting strangely.  
  
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Natalie took the underground from Charing Cross station to Green Park where she transferred to the Piccadilly Line and headed towards the address in Hounslow. In the Green Park station however she became a bit distracted by buskers in the tunnel. The men were of Caribbean decent and played steel drums, the rhythm of which went right to Natalie's hips. "Yo mon, look at the white girl!" called one with a knit hat pulled down so far only the tips of his dreadlocks showed. "Dance to the island beat," called the other. The men hadn't been making much only a few pence lay in the bowl at their feet, until the angel joined them. Suddenly a crowd gathered around the street musicians and the lithe dancing blonde. It wasn't long before money including pound notes began flowing over the bowl.  
  
As the song ended Natalie placed her hand to her pounding heat and laughed. It felt good, she felt good. "Thanks guys, that was great."  
  
"No don't go. We give you a third of what we make," said the one with dreads.  
  
"I've got to go to work. Thanks though," she said. As the airpressure changed with the coming of the train down the tube, "Oops there's my train." With that she took off down the tunnel to the platform.  
  
"Come back again soon," said the other and then turned to his friend, "That girl got a lot of style." Then picked up the mallet and began playing again.  
  
Natalie enjoyed the ride toward Hounslow. It wasn't as long as she expected and the walk to the address she had was pleasant enough. As she opened the gate leading up to the rickety house a dog barked. She heard the sound of a woman's voice yelling at it. Putting her biggest smiled on she knocked on the door.  
  
"Just a minute," called the woman from inside. A few seconds later a small hunched silver haired woman with a crooked nose opened the door. "Yes?" she asked peeking out from behind the chain.  
  
"Hi, my name is Natalie Cook. I'm with Townsend Investigations in Los Angeles. We're assisting Scotland Yard with a case. Would it be possible for me to speak to Peter Cartusu?"  
  
The old woman took in the perky blonde and unlatched the door. "I'm sorry Miss."  
  
"Cook," said Natalie filling in the blank.  
  
"I'm sorry Ms. Cook but my son doesn't live here anymore," said the woman as she attempted to close the door.  
  
The news that Peter Cartusu no longer lived there had thrown her off. Sticking out her foot to stop it from shutting surprised the angel said, "This is the address that he gave Scotland Yard yesterday."  
  
"Is he in trouble?"  
  
"He was arrested but the charges were dropped I just wanted to ask him a few more questions."  
  
"Come inside." Mrs. Cartusu opened the door wider and stepped back so Natalie could enter. Inside was dark and cool compared to the warm sunshine outside. "I knew that Peter would get into trouble sooner or later," she said with a thick accent. "What was he arrested for?"  
  
"Attempted murder."  
  
"Murder?"  
  
"Yes, but as I said the charges were dropped."  
  
"Arrest him. He did it," said the woman with certainty. "You look surprised that I, his own mother could say that. Come with me into the living room and I will explain." Thanking her Natalie followed her into the room which hosted flowered furniture dressed in plastic slip covers. "Please have a seat." Mrs. Cartusu opened the curtains and let the sun in. It gave the room an entirely different, less eerie appearance.  
  
Natalie lowered herself onto the plastic covered couch as her host walked over to the mantel piece and took a small framed photograph off. Handing it to the angel she said, "Well Peter. He was a good boy. Made good grades, went to a good school became a doctor. No, not a doctor what is that called that he does?" She tapped her finger tip to her chin as she searched for the word.  
  
"An orderly?" asked Natalie.  
  
"Yes! That's it an orderly. I never understood what they did but he liked helping people. Then one day he changed."  
  
The angels scooted forward on the couch and asked, "Changed how?"  
  
"He wasn't my son any more. When he talked he sounded like him but if you looked in his eyes it wasn't him. I don't like telling people about this because they don't believe me. They call me a crazy woman but I am not. I am not!"  
  
"Shhh." Natalie tried to calm Mrs. Cartusu down. "It's okay I believe you. So you looked in his eyes and he wasn't himself? Was he on drugs?" It was a possibility. Natalie knew that sometimes it happened in environments such as the hospital where drugs were readily available.  
  
"I wish it were drugs. I didn't think it was possible here. Maybe in the old country but not here but I suppose their evil knows no bounds."  
  
"Who's evil? Mafia? Drug lords?"  
  
"You aren't listening," yelled the woman getting more excited. "It has nothing to do with drugs except maybe the drug of power. They like wielding it over us, the common man like kings and emperors. They are a family a family that kills. They call it survival but I call it damnation."  
  
She was becoming more confused. "Can you tell me who they are?"  
  
"Of course Ms. Cook, they are around you. You won't see them but they come and take what they want." Then she leaned over so closely that Natalie could smell the coffee that Mrs.Cartusu had finished drinking before she opened the door. "Vampires."  
  
"Vampires?" She wasn't sure what to think. The woman believed that her son was a vampire. The man they had assisted in arresting the day before didn't look like a vampire. He had a healthy pallor and was out during the day. She even recalled seeing his reflection in the door of the police car.  
  
"Not like Hollywood makes them out to be. Not like that man.Mr. Stoker, the one who wrote that silly book about a so called Count Dracula. Nothing like the real man. The author should have done research before writing that. They don't drink blood." suddenly she became very quiet. "I can't tell you more or he will know."  
  
"Who will know? Your son?"  
  
"My son is dead. The one who inhabits his body now will know. Peter's father tried to stop him and lost his life in the process. I cannot tell you more other than arrest the man. It won't stop him. They can only be stop." the woman stopped again and grab her heart.  
  
"Mrs. Catusu are you okay," asked Natalie as she sprung off the couch to kneel next to the old woman. When she didn't answer Natalie went to look for a phone and found one in the kitchen. Quickly she dialed 999, "Hello yes I need an ambulance right away." She gave the operator the address and stayed at the old woman's side until it arrived.  
  
"It will be okay. I've called an ambulance." Then she proceeded to talk calmly to the woman about things other than her son. She didn't want Mrs. Cartusu becoming more upset that she obviously already was.  
  
As the door flew open and the paramedics entered, "Take this," groaned Mrs. Cartusu in pain. "It will protect you." With her left hand she thrust an object into Natalie's hand. The angel looked at what she had been given. In the palm of her hand was a medallion like the one that both the Thin Man and Max wore and she wondered why this case was becoming so strange. 


	7. 7

A/N Cromwell hospital actually exists and they do have a "gamma knife center" whether or not they take indigent patients I don't know but it works for the story.  
  
*-*-*-*  
  
Arriving at Cromwell Hospital Alex entered through the smoked glass doors, past several potted palms and made her way to the reception desk. Her long hair was piled on her head and she wore a white lab coat. Behind the desk sat a young man with thick coke bottle lens glasses and a big smile which seemed to widen even further as he saw the lovely asian woman approach. "Well hello," he said stretching out the "o" and extending his hand. "What can I do for you today?"  
  
Alex just glanced at his hand not taking it and asked, "I'm Dr.Alex Munday I'd like to speak with the administrator Dr. Smythton." It wasn't all a lie, she did have a doctorate in several subjects but rarely if ever did she use her title.  
  
"Dr. Smython is a very busy man," leered the man, "perhaps I can be of some assistance?"  
  
"I doubt it. I'm looking for information on a former employee."  
  
"Really?" He leaned over the desk closer to her. His warm breath which smelled of the spaghetti heavy on the garlic and oregano he had for lunch and blew steadily against her face. "Being the head receptionist, I am the eyes and ears of Cromwell Hospital. Tell me who you are looking for and I would love to help."  
  
"If you could direct me to Dr. Smythton." she started and he cut her off.  
  
"I know I bet you are here to ask about what's-his-name." He snapped his fingers trying to recall information. "I know it was something eastern European, he was an orderly. Well anyway he was a good guy then that last week he went all funny in the head. Mad? I don't know but I do know that he was up in London Royal Free Hospital." Then he placed his hand conspiratorially to the side of his face, "They've a mental health section there." Then he removed his hand and sat back down, much to Alex's relief. She didn't know how much more she could take; his breath was making her nauseous. "Probably still have him there. He was right weird."  
  
"What makes you think that I am here about him?" she asked  
  
"No one else has ever worked her who's been worth talking about. Kind of a boring place, but it pays well so I can't complain. I take home enough quid to live easily."  
  
While she would have loved to play games they were on a short time table. Inspector Morrison had been extremely displeased with the agency because of Dylan and had given them little time to either "catch Cartusu again or if he isn't the kill find the real one." So she leaned closer to the young man working receiption until her cleavage was visible and asked interestedly "How was he weird?"  
  
"Well.he worked up in neurology, neurosurgery. A lot of old people, stroke and Alzheimer's patients. Well I guess the stress just got to him. They said he was busy, now these are the doctors words not mine mind you, identifying too much with the patients. 'Parently someone heard him talking to old Mr. Florescu and he was telling him that he was him. Ya, know what I'm saying?"  
  
As an older man with a ring of gray hair around his balding head and wire rim glasses rounded the corner the man at reception turned and said loudly, "Excuse me, Dr. Smython?"  
  
The doctor turned and walked to the desk, "Yes Mr. Jones?"  
  
"This is Dr. Alex..?" He asked forgetting her name.  
  
"Munday," supplied the angel.  
  
"And what can I do for you Dr. Munday?" asked the administrator.  
  
"I'm here to check out an employee who used to work here at Cromwell. We just hired a man by the name of Peter Cartusu."  
  
"Cartusu! That's the name I couldn't think of," cried the man at reception. Both Alex and the doctor flashed him a look. "Oh quite sorry. Carry on."  
  
"Peter Cartusu you say? Come with me Dr. Munday and we can discuss Mr. Cartusu in further detail." He led the angel to the elevator and they boarded. Then he pressed the button for the floor that held the neurosurgery department. "I must say, it comes as a shock to have an American doctor here asking about Cartusu. I wasn't aware that he had been released from LRFH."  
  
"Apparently he was some time ago," said Alex hoping that her bluff worked. After this she would have to go to the London Royal Free Hospital and see just what information there could be dug up on Cartusu.  
  
"So has he emigrated then? Where in the US?" asked the doctor in a suspicious tone.  
  
"He hasn't yet. We received his application and were interested. Since it is a specialty hospital we like finding out about prospective employees first hand."  
  
"Oh, a specialty hospital? Perhaps I have heard of it." Luckily Alex didn't have to answer as the lift stopped on the appropriate floor, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss.  
  
"This is our Neurosurgery department also known as the Gamma Knife Center. We sometimes take indigent patients who would most certainly not make it on the street. Follow me," he said leading her down the long bright corridor. "Most are homeless men and women with varying degrees of Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, some have brain tumors."  
  
"You experiment on these people?" asked Alex.  
  
"We do try the newest treatments on them and offer them a better way of life. Perhaps Peter felt too much for the ones we couldn't help. You see," he said opening a door to reveal an emaciated old man who Alex determined to be well into his nineties. "This is Mr. Florescu. He was found outside of Harrods on Knightsbridge. He had suffered a stroke. Knowing that we help people like Mr. Florescu he was brought to us by ambulance. He is also the last patient that Peter Cartusu attended before well going a little off. Anyway he didn't respond well to most of the treatments we have tried and I think that is what disturbed Peter. He will be going for another test later so we can determine if any other the neural pathways for the speech center can be reactivated."  
  
Alex watched the patient as the doctor spoke of how he was found. The whole time the old man lay quietly in his bed until the doctor said the name Cartusu, then the man moaned loudly and tried to gather up enough strength to thrash about. Something didn't seem quite right. "Do you suspect that perhaps Cartusu was abusing this patient?"  
  
At the mention of Cartusu the old man began again.  
  
"Heaven's no, why on earth would you think that?" asked the doctor.  
  
"He just seems to become agitated when the orderly's name is mentioned."  
  
"That was noted before Ms.Dr. Munday. We have determined it is because his poor mind thinks that Cartusu and Florecu are the same name" Alex didn't think so. Both names had been spoken and the old man only reacted to the one. She knew he was trying to tell both of them something but the administrator wasn't willing to listen. The beeper the Adminstrator had clipped to his belt beeped.  
  
"If you will excuse me Dr. Munday, I need to make a quick call. I'm sure you can find your way out and if you have any questions feel free to call me," he said as he bolted from the room.  
  
"What is it that the doctor doesn't want to know?" she said softly more to herself than the old man in the bed. "Mr. Floresu?" she began but the old man shook his head. "It must take most of his strength to do that," she thought as she sat down next to him. Then without realizing what she was thinking she said, "Cartusu?" and the old man moaned and tried to speak. It was making sense yet not making any sense to her at the same time. Her logical mind wouldn't let her fully accept what she was seeing; it wouldn't let her accept that Cartusu was trying to tell her he was trapped in Florsecu's body. Although she was able to note the youth reflecting back at her from the patient's eyes.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan threw her suitcase on the bed and her clothing inside of it. She didn't know what was happening to her but she didn't want it to happen to her friends as well plus they didn't need her on this case. Feeling as though she was losing her mind she wrapped her hand around the medallion that hung from her neck. It had been so long since she felt like herself. She had been fine until the kiss on the rooftop and then something happened, she found herself understanding and actually caring about the Thin Man. She hadn't even realized that she pulled his hair and wondered as she slowly brought it up to her face and rubbed it against her chin why the hell she had done it? The weird part was that she enjoyed it, all of it from the kiss to the hair pulling.  
  
As she held the medallion she began to feel more like the Dylan that she knew. She would go to Cartusu, find out what he wanted, be his friend and catch him herself. She would make sure they had solid evidence, and arrest his ass. Knowing after the whole Seamus fiasco that running wasn't the answer she would be damned if she did it this time. No, instead she would fix the mess she caused by facing it head on.  
  
Slamming the suitcase closed she picked it up and left the room shutting the hotel suite door behind her. Dylan wouldn't worry about the last two days she would look to the future and seeing Cartusu in jail where he belonged. Then leaving her suitcase in the hall for a moment she ran back inside to retrieve the forgotten underground map which she left on the bed. Dragging her suitcase down the hall she calculated the best way to get to the killer's house in Woodford.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The traffic in London was horrible causing Bosley to spend an hour in a cab and missing Dylan by fifteen minutes. He cursed the left-handed driving of the British citizenry, the cockney driver, and the broken heating in the cab. Giving the driver the fare and a small tip he went inside and headed up to the suit. When he opened the door everything inside was dark. The tv was off and the remote was where he had placed the night before. Dylan obviously hadn't been watching television or the remote would have been in the bathroom. She wasn't the type who put things back where they went.  
  
"Dylan?" he called but received no answer. "Probably asleep." Lightly he knocked on the door to her room and pushed the door open. Peering inside he saw a neatly made bed and an empty closet. The coke cans which had been on the floor earlier had been thrown away. "Dylan?" he asked again into the empty room. Getting an idea he kneeled on the floor and peered underneath the bed, lifting the striped duvet. Her suitcase was missing.  
  
Still kneeling on the floor he picked up the phone from the night table and pushed 0 for outgoing calls and dialed Natalie's cell phone number.  
  
"Hello?" said the blonde on the other end of the line picking up on the first ring.  
  
"Nat, its Bos."  
  
"Hey Bos, how's Dylan?"  
  
How was he going to tell her that she was gone? Shrugging he forged straight on, "I don't know. She isn't here."  
  
"She went for a walk?"  
  
"Not unless she took her luggage with her."  
  
Natalie was confused. "She left? Is there a note? Have you called Alex?"  
  
"Yes, no and no. You're the first one I called."  
  
"Okay." She said taking a deep audible breath. "You go downstairs and find out if anyone has seen her. I'll call Alex we can meet at the Glouster Road underground station. Then we will both meet you at the hotel and all of us can search for Dylan. I've got some interesting information to share."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
In his one room apartment in Woodford Cartusu tried to reach out to the angel. He was feeling bad and although he didn't want to feed on anyone else for fear of breaking their bond he needed some more energy. He opened his mind and felt her anger and her frustration. She could feel her think of Anthony. The man had obviously touched her deeply. Then her mind slammed shut. The closure was so sudden that he jumped in his chair, his eyes springing open in amazement. How had she done that? She was strong but that was impossible especially in her current state.  
  
He knew what it was; he just couldn't put his finger on it. He could almost hear the voice of the Teacher explaining but for now he could only see the man's moving lips. "Damn it!" he yelled throwing the small ceramic cat that was on the table near the chair next to the wall. "I want her. I need her and she will not stop me. I don't know how she blocked me but she won't do it again. I won't let her do it again and if she tries.and if she tries she will be punished." 


	8. 8

A/N okay this is a little late I am adding the note now a couple hours after I posted. Anyway George Lane, St. Alban's Road, and Sainsbury's are all real places in Woodford-Green, London. Just thought it would be interesting to note.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan walked up George Lane as she left the underground station to the top of the hill. She hadn't eaten any breakfast causing her stomach to growl loudly. For a moment she considered stopping by the Sainsbury's on the left and see if they had any Pop Tarts but then she felt the pressure in her head again. He was trying to get in and she didn't know how long she could keep him out. She wasn't even sure how she shut him out the last time only remembered that she felt him prodding and then suddenly a curse echoed in her head and he was then gone.  
  
Continuing down the street she paused for a moment on the overpass and watched the traffic on the motorway before going on. "Dylan, you can do this. He will kill again if you don't stop him," she said to herself out loud trying to encourage herself to go on. Then silently she added, "If he doesn't kill you first."  
  
The walk was cold the wind picked up and the sky took on a pre-snow silvery quality. Grumbling she said, "Forget about him killing you, you are going to freeze to death first. I'd kill to be in California." Then she spotted the sign that read, "St. Alban's Road." Turning down it she was surprised that all the houses seemed to be single family type homes in Victorian style. Cartusu hadn't given her a number and just by looking at the clean friendly houses she couldn't determine behind which walls he lived. Reluctantly she opened her mind.  
  
"I'm here Cartusu!" she called.  
  
Cartusu rolled off the couch with a start. He had fallen asleep and her call had woken him up. That shouldn't have happened. He should only have been able to contact her not the other way around. Their connection was strong and it excited him. In all his incarnations he had never had a challenge. "A power of wills Dylan, this is what it will come down to." Then he opened his mind and found hers.  
  
The force in which he answered her almost brought her to her knees but he told her where he was. Pulling the suitcase behind her another half a lock she found the house. It was painted a drab pale grey color but its ugliness was hidden behind several large holly bushes. The door had a row of four doorbells and Dylan ran her finger down the list, Hill, Norman, one with no name on it, and Marsh. With an outstretched finger she pressed the one without a name and a moment later the downstairs door released with a buzzing sound and a small click.  
  
Dylan pushed open the door and stepped inside. Starting up the stairs she lifted her eyes to the second floor landing where Cartusu looked down on her with cold, hard eyes. "So I take it you aren't going to help me bring this up," she said sarcastically.  
  
"I am going to help you just not with that," he said. "Plus you don't have to bring that up here."  
  
"Well I'm not going to leave my suitcase out in the hall," she called to him as he disappeared back into his apartment and proceeded to bring it up the stairs.  
  
He came back out and said, "You don't listen well do you? Take it back down." As she stood there confused he turned and locked the door to the flat behind him. Then he revealed a suitcase of his own. "Now to the airport."  
  
"What? Why am I here?"  
  
"We needed to leave a clue or two for your friends. Plus if we went directly to the airport it would be too easy and they would be behind us too soon. We wouldn't want that now would we?" he asked looking into her eyes. What pretty eyes she had. Slowly she felt her mind begin to fog again and she shook her head. Inside she was yelling, "Stop! Get out." Why had she come?  
  
"You came because you want to know the truth and I can give it to you. You came because you know no matter how much Natalie and Alex love you they wouldn't understand and try to stop you from finding out what I want to give you. Now if you are a good girl I will ease up." Slowly he released her but not all the way. "You will be good won't you?" She didn't say a word. "Fine I will take that as a yes because I am a kind man."  
  
Dylan snorted. He just looked at her. "Fine," she finally said, "so where are we going once we reach the airport?"  
  
"Los Angeles."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The assassin stood waiting on the dock, smoking a cigarette, waiting for the ferry when a young boy of about seven years old ran up to him. Panting he called, "Mr. Anthony, Mr. Anthony." The assassin turned and watched the boy as he paused placing his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath a second then started running towards him again. When he reached the Thin Man he held out a business sized envelope. "This is for you Mr. Anthony."  
  
The Thin Man cocked an eyebrow in question. "I didn't tell the police nuttin'. The man told me not to. He said that I need to give this to you. I would have 'fore but.." he let what he was saying drift off when he saw the curious look the man gave him. Reaching out his lifted the boy's tie and saw that the medallion was gone. Quickly he wrote a note, "Where is your charm?"  
  
"Oh? The guy who gave me the letter took it. I told him it was mine. From the nuns," he panted between sentences. "But he just laughed."  
  
"Took it?" he wrote.  
  
"Uh huh," the boy replied.  
  
Timmy, his name was Timmy the Thin Man remembered. Mother Superior had mentioned the boy in passing, something about him having a bright future. She had told him he had a bright future too despite his unwillingness to speak. He didn't like the idea of the boy being susceptible to the Brotherhood but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Had he had his own medallion he would have gladly given it to Timmy but it was taken a year ago by the angel. Lost in thoughts about her he pulled her hair out of his pocket.  
  
"Mr. Anthony?" called Timmy. When the Thin Man didn't answer he tugged on his suit jacket to get his attention.  
  
Anthony looked at the boy. "Mr. Anthony, do you really have to leave?"  
  
He didn't say anything he just looked out into the strait between the island and the mainland watching the water and the boat pull up. The boy kept his eyes on the Thin Man waiting for a reply that never came. Without looking back the assassin stepped with his cane onto the deck of the boat. Moving to the bow away from the tourists leaving the island, he opened the envelope. Inside written in Romanian was:  
  
"Hello Circus Boy, I know you are alive and it won't be long before the Teacher does as well. He thinks you are the successor, his protégé, but he is wrong. I am. Until you are gone I will know no rest."  
  
He knew who it was from and it didn't matter. He had no desire to be involved in the Brotherhood or assume control of it any more than he wanted to be what he was. Inwardly he smirked at the cruelness of life and thought maybe it was best that the boy didn't have the medallion anymore. Before he stepped onto the boat he saw that the boy's aura was a faded orange color; something he had noticed about the child in the past. He knew what the color meant, the boy hadn't long to live. Sad as it was it was life and he couldn't help the boy and didn't want to. Why should he take away from the child the one gift he wished so much to have the ability to only live once?  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
The Teacher sat cross legged on the floor, eyes closed, finger tips together meditating. He did this on a regular basis the why of which he explained to his students as, "necessary for harmonious success between mind and body." If anyone who didn't know him were to come into the room they would have seen a quiet boy of approximately fourteen years of age sitting there. Currently he was meditating not only to bring his mind and body closer together but to draw The Brotherhood together as well. He couldn't understand what he had done wrong. How The Brotherhood which knew no dissent within for hundreds of years was suddenly split into two factions. On top of that Florescu was missing.  
  
"I must be getting old," he thought to himself and laughed. He was getting old? There he was within his new form, that of a fourteen year old boy and he thought he was old. Trying to center himself and his thoughts once more he focused on the candle in front of him. It wasn't working. Damn Clement! The man had come to him six months before and told the Teacher that he had re-read the prophecy and that he was to take the Teacher's place upon the end of the last incarnation. Promptly correcting him the Teacher smiled and informed him that his successor was Anthony. Of course the other man reacted in outrage fuming on and on about how he would claim the title. How the fact that Anthony's mother Sakia had married a mortal and that should have negated any claim he might have had to the title.  
  
Of course six months ago he had only thought that Clement was alone in his belief that he was the successor but three months ago he was disturbed to learn that the man's claims had caused a riff in The Brotherhood. It appeared that many believed that Clement should assume his place as Teacher after his final incarnation and that although many others didn't exactly believe that he was the prophesized one they had assumed that Anthony was dead and for the continuity of The Brotherhood Clement should be given the place of Teacher. Still there were others who believed that only the mute son of Romanian circus performers could hold the place. Unfortunately he didn't know where Anthony was and was unable to locate him until two days ago. He had sent Josef out to find him, verify that it was indeed the silent assassin and if possible bring him back into the fold. He could have stretched his mind to check himself but as in the legends churches and holy places were forbidden to the Brotherhood. It was Anthony's half-breed status that allowed him to go where the others couldn't.  
  
A pounding at the door woke him from his thoughts. "I have returned, Master," stated the man who entered and knelt at the Teacher's feet.  
  
"Stand," commanded the Teacher then he looked the man over he could see the muddy gray aura pouring off of him. "You disgust me!" he spat. "Look at you cowering like one of them. You screwed up and you thought I wouldn't know about it."  
  
"I did what I was told."  
  
"Josef you did not do as you were told. You were told to find Anthony!"  
  
"But Master, I did."  
  
"Are you trying to deny that you set the fire? The fire on the island? I should have known you would try to feed. "  
  
Joseph nervously shifted his weight from side to side. He was damned if he told the Teacher, his Master, that he didn't and if he told him that he did then he would have to reveal who had him do it. Then the other would be angry. He could only wonder about which of the two would give him the worst fate. "I did it."  
  
"Why?" asked the man in the teen-boy's body.  
  
"Clement. He.he made me do it."  
  
The Teacher clicked his tongue making a "tsk-tsk" sound. He had sent Josef thinking that while he had no self-control when it came to feeding he was at least loyal. Turning his back to Joseph he waved the man off and told him, "You may go."  
  
His release came as a shock. He expected to be killed on the spot. "Sir, I do bring news." He hoped that it would please the Teacher. "Anthony has protected the nuns and the children."  
  
The Teacher turned back around, eyes blazing. "How?" he demanded.  
  
"They are armed with the medallion of the mother," he said and held out the medallion, dangling it with a handkerchief wrapped around the chain which he tore from the small boy's neck when he gave him the note.  
  
"You expect me to believe that the nuns accepted the pagan symbol?"  
  
"They have and I believe they think it is their Virgin Mary."  
  
"Leave," said the Teacher softly. Joseph wasted no time. Quickly he scampered out the door leaving the Teacher alone in thought again. "Protect them Anthony but can you protect yourself?" Now he needed to find the other rogue member Florescu and bring him back in to the fold as well. 


	9. 9

Hi everyone. Sorry that I took so long to update this but I was in Egypt then I was sick but I am back and fine now. I hope this chapter is good. It's just something I cranked out this morning. Next chapter we will focus on the angels trying to find Dylan and Cartusu.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
In the quiet hallway he punched the code into the lock and the latch slid back with a slight hiss. Pushing open the door the Thin Man stepped inside his loft apartment and looked around. It had been almost a year since he had been there last. He smiled to himself as he remembered the occasion. He had just returned battered from the coal bowl. Slamming his bike into the concrete truss was the last thing he expected to do but as usual the angel managed to get to him. So focused on taking her hair he incorrectly estimated the lift he would need to sail over the support and instead focused on grabbing the shinning golden tresses. She had been wearing a wig but the longer part in the back that was her own hair. Most people probably couldn't have told the difference but he wasn't most people.  
  
Walking around the living room he began to carefully remove the dust covered sheets that protected the furniture. As he started to lift the edge of one from a slim black designer chair he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Gently lowering it again he withdrew the sword from its sheath and stopped in front of the bedroom door.  
  
"Come in Anthony," said a very female voice from within. Still on alert he pushed the door open and saw a lovely young blonde woman laying draped across the bed in a jet black negligee. Anthony raised an eyebrow in amusement. "It's been too many years hasn't it?" She purred eyeing him. Anthony only nodded and then removed his pen.  
  
"You don't need that you know. I can tell what you are thinking and your first question other than to ask me why I am here is to ask me what the hell I am thinking becoming a woman. That question is an easy one. I haven't been female since I was born three hundred years ago and thought it was high time to get back in touch with my roots." With that she stood the long silken negligee she wore rustling against the bed sheets and walked over to him. As she ran her finger down the buttons of Anthony's suit jacket she smiled. "It's hard for you to think of me as anything other than Clifford isn't it?" He nodded. Of course it was. He had met Clifford when he was brought into the brotherhood at seventeen and Clifford had looked to be about the same age. It wasn't until later that he learned that his friend was so many years older than he was. Writing he asked, "So what do I call you now?"  
  
"Selene. Now so you don't waste your time writing let me update you on the problems you have returned to. Sit down. By the way when did you start having nightwear for women lying around?"  
  
Had it been anyone else Anthony would have stood there defiantly but he knew Clif-Selene and could see she was still as trustworthy as always. Unlike many upper members of The Brotherhood she chose not to hide her aura but to display it like a banner. He didn't answer her question. It was an odd random purchase. He had seen it in a shop and couldn't get the idea of the angel, Dylan wearing it out of his mind. Buying it he brought it home, felt stupid and tossed it in a drawer never giving it a second thought, but Selene didn't need to know about that.  
  
Once he sat she continued. "First since your supposed death playing hero to those 'Angels' has been uncovered as untrue the riff within The Brotherhood has grown. In fact it is an all out war. The teacher refuses to see it as such and ignores Clement but others are starting not to see Clement as right but the Teacher as weak and therefore are supporting his bid for successor. Of course there are a good many of us in the upper echelon who believe you are the only one who can legitimately take the power." Anthony shook his head and began to write but Selene placed her hand on top of his to stop him. "I realize you don't want the job. You don't have to tell me that but sometimes we don't have a choice in our fate or destiny. If so do you think we would choose to be immortal? To mortals it does have an appeal, never to die, to see progress progress beyond your wildest imagination, to become whoever you desire on a whim. I bet most mortals would die of surprise if they knew how many of their matinee idols are of our ranks. And they think Elvis had a drug overdose. The Teacher had a lot of fun in that incarnation but after awhile it bored him."  
  
"They watch their vampire films and find them highly sensual and erotic yet if they knew our true nature, how we walk among them in the day light hours and consume them without leaving a mark they would wither to the ground. They think immortality is the bee's knees but we know better yet it is our fate until the final incarnation is reached or we are put out of our suffering. It is our destiny Anthony, like becoming the teacher is yours and dying is theirs." Selene watched as the young man before her took in her words. "Even if you don't want to become the Teacher it is the only way that the Brotherhood can be saved from the destruction that is Clement. Also we have a problem. A long time member of The Brotherhood is unaccounted for. The Teacher has been worried about him for sometime. Do you remember Florescu?"  
  
Anthony thought a minute and nodded. He remembered Florescu he had broken more rules of the Brotherhood than anyone and he had broken the prime one; never take a baby. The Teacher had told him when he began his education about Florescu. He was an immortal older than the Teacher himself who took the place of an eight month old baby. It was said that inhabiting a body that young and undeveloped would make the mind of the Brother insane as it would be trapped together with that of the baby until the child's second birthday. Anthony had met the old man once or twice and had a feeling that Florescu wasn't all there.  
  
"He disappeared. He was was living in London then one day the Teacher lost touch with him. We think he has taken over another body but hasn't checked in. We've sent out feelers for him and they have come back negative."  
  
"Maybe he is dead," wrote Anthony.  
  
"No, there we would have felt it." Then thoughtfully she stopped and rubbed her chin. "Maybe because he took over the child all those years ago we didn't feel it. After all we all felt you die and here you are. I just hope he did because if he is out there and rogue he poses as much danger for The Brotherhood as Clement does, if not more." As an after thought she added, "And may God help any mortal that crosses his path." With that she crossed herself.  
  
Anthony smiled at that. Selene hadn't believed in God since she had discovered she was immortal a couple hundred years before but he supposed old habits died hard. Still he wanted to know how she had found him and he asked in writing.  
  
"It was logical. After the orphanage fire I assumed you wouldn't want to chance endangering the children or the nuns further. Where else would you go?"  
  
She was right. There was one other place he had considered going but he doubted that it would have been a good idea. He thought about going to the agency that the angel worked for but what would he tell them? Then he considered visiting her apartment. He knew where it was. He had watched her there before the whole Halo affair; he had been intrigued by her since the first moment he met her. Still how would he explain being alive and would she even try to listen? He doubted it and knew that she was better off believing him to be dead. The last thing he needed or the angels needed was for them to somehow get tangled up with The Brotherhood.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Dylan watched as the woman at the gate straightened her uniform jacket and waved to the woman working the desk at the gate signaling that she was ready to begin. Then she glanced over at her traveling companion Cartusu. He was reading a girly magazine and a strand of drool was actually hanging from his lip. Dylan swallowed her disgust back and said, "They are going to start boarding soon."  
  
Closing the magazine Cartusu gave her a curt nod and folded the magazine cover inward and stuck it in the raggedy backpack he was using as a carry- on bag. He knew Dylan wasn't happy but that wasn't his concern. When he first attacked her in the park he hadn't realized how important she would become to him, what part she would play but it had become clearer to him as the day wore on. He could only wonder how long it would take the other Angels, Natalie, Alex and that strange Bosley person to find them. Oh and when they did it would be so much fun to play with them.  
  
"Welcome to Trans-Atlantic Airways flight 2010 to Los Angles. We will commence boarding in a few moments with our Gold Wings members and anyone requiring special assistance. We kindly request that all other passengers remain seated until your row number is called," echoed the airline gate desk woman's voice semi distorted through the speakers in the gate area. Cartusu sat up straight and took Dylan's hand which she tried to snatch back but he reprimanded her in his mind. "Honeymoon, Dylan my dearest. Keep that in mind." Then he gave her a mental squeeze.  
  
Dylan's free hand flew up to her forehead where the pressure was. The young woman who stood at the gate door noticed her discomfort and left her post. "Miss? Are you alright?"  
  
"It's just a migraine," said Cartusu as he checked out the young woman's rear. "My blushing bride gets them from time to time." She looked scrumptious. He would have gladly consumed her but there wasn't time for that. It would have taken just a second and Dylan could have helped. On the other hand maybe there was time. Would she be worth the possibility losing his hold on Dylan? "Just a snack," he thought, "just a snack." "Do you think you could help her into the restroom? Maybe help her splash some water on her face?"  
  
"Of course," said the young woman carefully taking Dylan's arm.  
  
"That's okay I'll be fine," said Dylan angrily as she tried to remove her arm from the woman's grasp. She suddenly hated the pretty airline woman for no reason except she could see that Cartusu wanted her. "Who is he to want her?" she though "He is supposed to want me." Then she shook her head trying to get the foreign thoughts from her mind. She was supposed to hate Cartusu not be envious if he looked at another woman. She felt like she was going insane. "On second though maybe it is a good idea," she said standing and allowing herself to be lead to the washroom.  
  
As they stepped inside the white tiled room the airline woman, whose name take proclaimed her to be C. Reed said, "Do you often get migraines?"  
  
Turning on the faucet marked "cold" Dylan let the water run for a moment then answered, "Actually they are a new thing." And she realized the further she was away from Cartusu the clearer her head felt.  
  
"You are looking better already. Not as pale as before. I hate to be nosy but what color is that you do your hair with?"  
  
"Huh?" asked Dylan. She was a natural red-head although in her teen years she did the peroxide blonde look. Then she noticed what the woman was talking about the roots of her hair seemed to be a black color not the usual coppery red. Reaching a hand up she looked at several strands. It did look as though she colored it. "I guess I didn't realize it was time for a touch up," she joked hoping she sounded more jovial than she felt. Then there was a knock at the door.  
  
Cartusu waited for a bit not wanting to be too obvious but still to look like he was concerned and checking on his sick "wife". After a few moments he went and knocked on the bathroom door. The airline agent opened the door. "Sir, she seems much better I'll let you tend to her for now." The broad Romanian didn't let her through the door instead he caught her eyes.  
  
"Step back." He said slowly and she did what she was told as he shut the door behind them.  
  
"Cartusu what are you doing?" asked Dylan.  
  
C. Reed just looked up at he large man with wide eyes never noticing that his beefy hands wrapped around her thin throat. Slowly he began to squeeze. Dylan felt paralyzed. She had to do something and finally at the moment C. Reed's mind realized that her lungs we no longer getting any air and she gasped Dylan charged forward. Dylan wasn't sure if she was attacking to save the woman or to stop Cartusu from the intimate act of eating. As she came forward flying with her foot out he mentally yelled her name causing her to crash to the floor. Then he refocused on Ms. Reed. He could see she knew she was dying. "Show me your hope and fears," he whispered barely aware of Dylan moaning on the floor a small trickle of blood running from her left ear.  
  
Ms. Reed had no resistance at all; it was almost too easy for Cartusu and the meal was empty. Despite the vibrancy and life the airline woman's aura emitted there was no substance to her. It was like eating a popsicle, taste but still hunger afterwards. Casually he carried her into a stall by her neck and propped her on the toilet bowl shutting the door. Then he turned to Dylan. "My dear, don't disturb me when I am eating. I bet they will be calling our row just about now." Helping her off the floor and handing her a dark brown paper towel to wipe the blood off her neck they exited the bathroom just as the woman making the announcements called, "We will now begin boarding rows 31-42."  
  
"What did I tell you Dylan? We have perfect timing." 


End file.
